


Hoping to Heal

by acclaimedwriter



Category: Casualty (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 21:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21482917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acclaimedwriter/pseuds/acclaimedwriter
Summary: Based on the prompt: "it wasn't your fault." [Set in S2, discusses and deals with rape and its aftermath]
Relationships: Lisa "Duffy" Duffin/Charlie Fairhead
Kudos: 6





	Hoping to Heal

Duffy was tired of everyone telling her, she should talk about what had happened. She refused, firmly stating that nothing happened and talking wasn’t going to help anyone.

Her behaviour and insistence that _nothing_happened the night of her attack, made everyone realise _something_ had happened. She was short-tempered, moody, borderline argumentative in the weeks after her attack, her own way of coping with what that bastard had done to her. She pushed everyone away - again, her way of coping as she attempted to rebuild herself.

“Duffy?”

She looked up as she heard Charlie call her name.

“A word, my office?”

Duffy rolled her eyes and closed the patient file, slamming it down and following Charlie to his office. As soon as she was inside, she folded her arms across her chest.

“What?”

Charlie raised an eyebrow at her attitude and gestured towards the seat, encouraging her to sit down. Duffy glanced at the chair and back at Charlie before shaking her head.

“What’s this about?” She asked, suddenly feeling nervous to why Charlie had called her into his office. Had she done something wrong? Made a mistake, an error somewhere that she hadn’t noticed.

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sadly, “I’ve been talking with Ewart and we both think…”

“You’ve been talking about me behind my back?” There was a hint of annoyance in her voice and Charlie knew if he didn’t tread carefully, it would soon escalate into a massive argument. Something he was hoping to avoid.

“I’m your boss.” He said gently.

“You’re also supposed to be my friend or is that only when it’s convenient for you?”

He exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck once more. Reaching into the top drawer, he pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a box of matchers. He offered her a cigarette but as she declined, took one out himself and placed it in his mouth.

“As I was saying, Ewart and I have been talking and we both think you could do with taking some leave.”

Charlie scratched the match across the top of his matchbox and once lit, held it to his cigarette. Although he wasn’t looking at Duffy, he could tell she was glaring at him. He could feel it.

“Well..” she paused, “thanks for the suggestion but I don’t need to take any.”

“I think it’ll be better if you do.” He exhaled blowing a cloud of smoke in her direction. She frowned and coughed slightly at the fogginess, once again disagreeing with the, taking annual leave situation.

“I’m not taking any leave!” Duffy stated. Truth be told, since her attack, Duffy had been picking up a number of night shifts so she didn’t have to be alone in the flat during the night. A sense of dread suddenly ran through her body at the possibility of Charlie (and Ewart!) making her stay at home.

Her chest began to tighten, her heartbeat racing so much so that she could feel her own heartbeat in her ears. The feel of sickness as it coiled its way around her insides, threatening to suffocate her from within. Charlie frowned as Duffy’s hands began to shake, her skin had lost its colour and her chest was raising and falling rapidly. He stubbed out his cigarette and stepped towards her slowly, not wanting to startle her any further. Duffy closed her eyes tightly as she remained desperate to remain in control of her thoughts.

“Duf? Duffy?” He called, no response. His voice was low, calm, quiet. He needed her to come out of the panic attack. Charlie gently placed his hand against Duffy’s arm but her small squeal, and the harsh pull of her arm, alerted Charlie that it wasn’t ok to do so.

Charlie reassured her by telling her she was safe, she was in control and nobody was going to hurt her. Her breathing soon became normal, her chest no longer raising abnormally. Her hands were still shaky and without another word, Duffy reached out for his cigarettes. She took one from his packet, lit it up and took a long drag. Seconds later, she began to cough and splutter.

“God that’s awful!”

Duffy offered Charlie the rest of the cigarette, hoping he wouldn’t ask too many questions about what the hell had just happened.

“I.. erm, should get back. Thanks for the offer of annual leave but really, there’s no need.”

She went to leave his office but Charlie stood in her way. Duffy swallowed hard as she felt the tightness in her chest again.

“You’re not coping.” Charlie’s choice of words weren’t exactly the best and Duffy immediately blew up! How dare he stand there and say that to her!

“Don’t talk shit!”

Charlie’s eyebrow raised slightly. She never swore, she didn’t look the type too.   
  
“I’m coping just fine, not that that’s any of your business!”

Charlie brought the cigarette to his lips, took two large drags of it and flicked the ash into the ashtray. There was an awkward silence for a couple of seconds.

“I must admit it did cross my mind why you were working so many night shifts. You can’t sleep can you?”

Duffy swallowed and shook her head frantically, despite for him to believe the next line she was about to deliver. “I just need the money, that’s all.”

“You’re having nightmares and flashbacks aren’t you?”

Duffy was consumed by fear again. The fight or flight response. She had to fight the fear. Picking up the ashtray, she threatened to launch it at Charlie’s head. It wasn’t the best idea that Duffy ever had, Charlie was still her boss.

“Stop talking!” She warned, attempting to be brave but her hands shook and her voice trembled.

“Duff..” He was about to say something else when she shouted again, “Stop talking!”

He stopped for a minute, trying to work out what the best way to proceed was. One that didn’t result in the ashtray been thrown in his direction.

“Nothing happened!” She stated firmly, “stop trying to make me believe something did!”

The pain in her voice was evident and Charlie sighed sadly.

“Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?”

He took a small step towards her. “Even if _something_ happened, it wasn’t your fault.”

Charlie jumped out of his skin as Duffy slammed the ashtray down on the desk. The ashtray shattered, sending ash and bits of glass all over the other. Neither of them noticed the large cut in Duffy’s palm. He stared at her for a minute before he looked down at his desk, frowning at the blood drops that were appearing.

“Your bleeding.” It was a statement, not a question and Duffy frowned in response. Bleeding, where? She glanced down and seeing her hand, the blood and the cut, she swallowed and muttered. “Oh shit.”

He encouraged her to sit down, grabbing a handkerchief and stemming the blood flow. He crouched down in front of her, his eyes meeting hers and he was about to say something when she placed a finger against his lips. Charlie took a deep breath inwards.

“Ssh, I don’t want to talk anymore.”

She sighed and moved her finger. Charlie took a couple of seconds to compose himself before he said quietly, “we need to get that hand seen too.”

Duffy looked down at her hand and studied it, feeling oddly relaxed at the blood seeping through the handkerchief. She glanced up and nodded before reverting her attention back to her hand. Charlie exhaled, this was all such a mess.


End file.
